


One minute to midnight

by Oopswakandaforever (orphan_account)



Category: Black Panther (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, F/M, Male Cinderella, even in a fairytale AU, let Bucky go dancing again, repost, winterprincess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 15:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Oopswakandaforever
Summary: "The whole court will have a coronary if I ever went to the party dressed like this. You two better hurry up anyway. Your carriage has been awaiting in front of the manor for half an hour now."Steve nodded silently while Sam gave a long suffering sigh before putting his curved hat on."Leave it, Captain. Your best Sergeant has decided to be boring for the rest of his life", he sighed.Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Boring ? What use would a one armed old man be at a ball, Wilson, pray tell ? Watching from the shadows as you both have your fun ?""You lost an arm, Bucky. Not your charm. Not the right to have fun. And you still have enough feet to dance.”A Cinderella Bucky AU





	One minute to midnight

Bucky was used to avoid mirrors.

 

The reflection of the one-armed man they sent back to him was always a nuisance and felt like a million bees stinging his self-esteem. It was enough that people gave him odd looks at the markets or that even a dog slithering in between his legs could make him lose his balance. Though tonight, there was no mirror needed to make him feel like a wretch. His friends did the job flawlessly as his envious gaze swept over trim figures and long, embroidered waistcoats, Steve and Sam slowly descending the stairs in their formal attire. Navy blue for Steve and vermilion for Sam.

 

 They were going dancing.

 

Weeks ago, the whole household had been formally requested to attend the princess’ birthday celebration. It was the first ball given after a four year long war and it was important for soldiers to make a public appearance there. The Kingdom could pride itself on the win but the price of victory had been the loss of a limb for Bucky and needless to say, the veteran wasn't in the mood for dance, no matter how much Aunt May, the tenant, had insisted for him to stop secluding himself at the barn. The sinister part of his mind suggested he wasn't much in the mood for living either.

 

"Are you sure you don't wanna come, Buck ?", Steve asked him. 

 

He would have crossed his arms if it weren't for his phantom limb. Bucky settled for shaking his head. At Steve's sides, Sam was fiddling with his cuffs with a flourish and only stopped doing so when the blonde lightly nudged him with an elbow. Bucky thought his shoulder length, silver wig provided an odd but pleasing contrast with his dark skin. He gestured as his own clothes which were age worn and even more dirtied by another bout of farming. Milking goats with one arm was no easy feat but at least, goats weren't as judgmental as human beings. And tending to the animals was the only way he could repay Aunt May for giving him shelter.

 

"The whole court will have a coronary if I ever went to the party dressed like this. You two better hurry up anyway. Your carriage has been awaiting in front of the manor for half an hour now."

 

Steve nodded silently while Sam gave a long suffering sigh before putting his curved hat on.  

 

"Leave it, Captain. Your best Sergeant has decided to be boring for the rest of his life", he sighed. 

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Boring ? What use would a one armed old man be at a ball, Wilson, pray tell ? Watching from the shadows as you both have your fun ?"

 

"You lost an arm, Bucky. Not your charm. Not the right to have fun. And you still have enough feet to dance.”

 

He scoffed at that and shook his head.

 

"Sure. I've never felt this appealing and fulfilled in my existence. Never had this much attention from the ladies either." 

 

“Look, if this about Natasha calling off the engagement, I can assure you it has nothing to do with your wound and everything to do with Clint. You were fighting overseas for years, it’s only natural that-

 

“Sam”, Steve said in a warning tone, his eyes focused on Bucky the whole time.

 

When noticing he had overstepped his boundaries, Sam glanced at Bucky whose sole fist was clenching. Even his eyes were blazing with cold fury.

 

“Apologies”, the dark skinned man said with reluctance, hands coming up to readjust his collar.

 

Bucky nodded noncommittally, releasing a stuttering breath. His gaze met Steve’s and he knew his best friend was trying to read his mind, searching for traces of regret and secret yearning for celebration. So he schooled his features and kept his expression as neutral as possible.

 

“We’ve got enough hens at the farm, Steve. I don’t need you to mother me”, he said with a pointed tone.

 

The blonde pursed his lips before bowing his neck to put his wool hat on. Bucky was getting nowhere by being vague so he ignored the tingle of jealousy and plastered a smile on his face. If he had to drag his friends to their carriage by their single braids to have some much needed peace, he would.

 

Minutes later, Steve looked over his shoulder one last time before stepping into the sleek, black wagon. Sometimes, his friend’s caring character hurt even more than the contempt Bucky could encounter from visitors, he thought as they maintained eye contact. He made a point to wave his single hand till the carriage left the road bordering the entrance to the manor farm and took a turn right after coming across the last hurdles.

 

His friends were set for an hour ride and he stood still, watching the carriage till it turned into a black dot in the horizon, disappearing through winding roads in the dim light of the late afternoon.

 

And Bucky thought, it would take a miracle to get him back to social niceties again.

 

 *****

 

 

“What was wrong with this one ?”, her father asked as he drew near, hands crossed behind the small of his back.

 

Shuri spun to face him, sending the dome-shaped skirt of her ballgown to brush against her father’s breeches.  She put on her most innocent expression. The King was having none of it. He knew she offended the poor guy on purpose and she knew too.

 

“He was too young”, she retorted with a shrug, unfolding her fan and slowly waving it.

 

The King shook his head in fond annoyance when she brushed his nose with the peacock feathers that rimmed the device on purpose.

 

“Shuri. The Viscount of Hopewell is twenty. Do I need to remind you this is your eighteenth birthday celebration ? I haven’t seen you dance with anyone since the party started.”

 

“Baba-”

 

“Are you so eager to dive your nose back into your cabinet of curiosities yet ? If not, what are you waiting for ?”

 

The princess kept waving her fan, turning her focus to the sight of the grand ballroom which was teeming with guests. She thought she would find some quiet in the balcony surrounding the entire place but an unsolicited suitor had the gall to follow her and take that small mercy away from her.

 

“ _The right partner_ ”, she finally said. “You should know better than anyone that I like my dance partners ancient.”

 

The King’s eyes softened at the banter.  For a long time, it had just been the two of them and he made a point to shelter the princess away from the court and its oppressive atmosphere. He swore it to his late wife.

 

“Maybe you’ll find someone interesting enough to put in your wonder cabinet tonight”, he said softly.

 

Shuri’s eyes lit up with mirth. At this point, she only wanted to humor her father so when he stretched his arm for her to take, she did so with a sheepish smile and they both walked down the massive staircase under the guests’ watchful gaze and hurried whispers.

 

*****

 

The first thing Bucky saw when he came back to his chambers to settle for the night was his old military uniform neatly laid on his bed. It was his only formal attire left after he went on a rampage in his wardrobe months ago. Although the memories of his former glory were painful, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it and surprisingly, Aunt May had managed to clean off all the blood stains from the outfit. Now, it looked pristine and ready for wear. He sighed and bent down to brush the sleeves of the green long coat, which was rimmed with yellow. His friends really wanted him to enjoy the night with them. They were nothing but supportive and Bucky felt a sudden pang of guilt. He ignored it and proceeded to neatly fold the clothe back into his wardrobe before looking around his room. He insisted to have minimum furniture so the walls were practically barren except for a framed pastoral scene painted by Steve’s hands. A carved oak, violin bookcase was the only luxury he allowed himself.

 

In the silence of his dim lit room, he snorted at the absurd turn his life had taken. With a huff, he sat at his bed, opened the drawer of his bedside table and peeked at the flintlock pistol laid there. Another relic from his past. It was Sam who blew a fuse when discovering it, and seized him from him till Bucky begged him to give it back because his late mother had hand it over to him. Still, his friend thought he was way too somber after he recovered from his injuries and dreaded that Bucky would commit the irreparable. Suffice to say he didn’t but the grim pictures still came to mind sometimes. Bucky thought it might have been the reason why his friends usually loathed to leave him alone. This is why they followed him near the countryside instead of fulfilling their wanderlust.

 

He closed the compartment and flopped on his bed-covers. They were so soft and mellow he felt like floating on foam. For months, he had preferred to sleep in the barn because he weren’t used to this kind of comfort. Shutting his eyes, he let his mind wander to gentle times, reminiscing about his childhood, the milky smell of his baby sister, the feeling of soft grass beneath his feet as he ran after his friends and trees bending under the weight of chestnuts. And his parents dancing to the chirping sound of a mechanical bird.

 

_God, he missed them so much. Missed the comfort and reassurance of their arms. Heck, he would give everything to go back and save them._

 

His chest swell at the memories and he opened his wet eyes again to keep from getting swallowed by the nostalgia.

 

But the chirping didn’t stop.

 

Bucky hoisted himself up on his single elbow to let his eyes roam the entire room. Opposite him, on his walnut table, the lid of his mother’s silver music box was open and its brightly colored bird was singing, spinning in a clockwise motion. He wouldn’t have frowned if he didn’t know the key of the music box had been lost ages ago. He sat slowly, resting his back against the headboard. He knew how these things worked. Usually, after completing a spin, the bird would move back inside and the lid would close. This time, the chirping got louder and louder, the bird spun quicker and quicker. A sense of dread traveled the veteran’s spine and he reached for his pistol before jumping out of his bed. The firearm felt smooth and light in his hand as he was striding towards the console. He stood still, scrutinizing the box. It was a trick, he was sure. But none of his friends were well versed into this sort of mechanics so he suspected an intruder was in the house.

 

He watched as the mechanical bird came to a stop. It blinked. Bucky immediately stepped backwards, his own eyes blinking profusely to cast off the strange picture. The blue and gold feathered bird tilted his head and he let out a quiet gasp at the sight. _What kind of sorcery was happening here ?_ Though to be fair, it wouldn’t be the first time he had hallucinations. Without further ado, Bucky cocked his pistol and turned his back on the music box to examine his candle lit chambers. If anything, war trained him to stay calm in the face of impending danger.

 

He heard a flapping sound then, and saw the shadows of a giant bird spreading his wings gaining in momentum on all four of his walls. He whipped to look at the mechanical bird again but it had vanished.

 

“What the heck ?”

 

“ _I’m so glad to see you’re not planning to use this pistol on yourself, Child”_

 

*****

 

Bored. Shuri was so bored and she needed saving.

 

Stuck on a bench between two nobles boasting about their respective families’ shipping companies, the princess kept fanning slowly, distracting herself by watching guests perform a minuet, forming serpentine patterns with their feet as they moved across the ballroom.

 

She only stopped fanning when she noticed she had followed the rhythm of the music and for a moment, she narrowed her eyes at the pair formed by the Baroness of Thornfield and the eccentric Tony Stark. She was a widow and he was a womanizer. There was no way this would end well.

 

Shuri snapped her fan close as soon as the music stopped. The gesture startled the boys.

 

“Ned, I believe we are boring the Princess.”

 

Shuri gave them both a contrite smile.

 

“Maybe Shuri would prefer to dance ?”, the one with almond eyes and olive skin asked.

 

She shook her head and instead, grabbed the swathes of her purple gown and stood up. After turning to face them again, she bowed in reverence.

 

“Gentlemen. Thank you for your company but I have a mission to tend to. Have a great evening.”

 

With that, she spun around and caught the barely muffled conversation the boys carried on as she made her way to the spot where Tony Stark was flirting with the Baroness.

 

“Our princess is so beautiful ! I understand why the King kept her away all this time. To think everyone spread the rumor about her having a panther head ! Did you know her weaponry designs are displayed in the Royal Library ?”

 

“Peter, the only thing I know is she looks like a plum in that dress. The most delicious plum.”

 

With a sigh, Shuri walked towards the couple on a quicker stride.

 

*****

 

This maniac was calling himself En Dwi Gast but begged Bucky to refer to him as the Grandmaster. He kept rambling with dramatic sways of the hands that Winifred, Bucky’s mother, was the one who called him forth to save her child and that he was slightly disappointed he wouldn't get to doll up a princess this time.

 

Bucky didn’t have the protection of his pistol anymore because the man thought it hilarious to turn the firearm into bubbles when he had tried to shoot him. He was still trying to reconcile the mechanical bird with the silver haired eccentric wearing textured golden drapes, a thick blue stripe adorning the line from his upper lip to his chin.

 

“ _Could you please get out of my house ?_ ”, Bucky groaned for the umpteenth time.

 

He threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled in frustration, shutting his eyes. He was definitely going bonkers, he thought as he sat at his armchair. The Grandmaster stopped and looked him up and down with an arched eyebrow. He plastered a smile on his face and clapped his hands together.

 

“James Barnes ! It doesn’t matter that you look like a homeless man with a stump because I _love_ new challenges.”

 

Bucky whipped his head. It had been ages since he didn’t hear someone referring to him with his birth name. And he knew for a fact he never told this stranger his name in the unfortunate half an hour he had grown to know him. “In what language must I tell you? Please, _go away_.”

 

“ _Do you remember White Wolf_?”

 

Bucky stopped massaging his face. “Excuse me ?”

 

“You heard what I said. You received the wooden toy on your fifth birthday and cried yourself to sleep when you lost it.”

 

Heat rose to Bucky’s cheeks as he stammered. “How would you know ?”

 

The Grandmaster brushed off his question with a dismissive hand gesture.

 

“ _Irrelevant_. What I meant to say is that I know your deepest desires. You can’t hide from me James.”

 

“ _Bucky_ ”, he corrected as he maintained the Grandmaster’s gaze.

 

“And I know dancing is something you’ve missed for a long time.”

 

At that, the eccentric snapped his fingers, dipping the room into complete darkness. When Bucky opened his eyes again, he was knees deep in hay. He immediately heard the soft bleating of his goats and figured they were in the barn. With a wince, he stood up and his hand found his opposite shoulder to knead the buzzing pain he felt there. Bucky cursed under his breath. This man was treating him like a goddamn puppet and he swore he needed a second hand just for the luxury of strangling him.

 

The Grandmaster drew near the stall gates, sliding a hand in between the gaps to brush one of the kid’s fuzzy fur.

 

 _Traitor_ , he thought as the kid bleated even more happily.

 

“This one really wants to help you, you’re lucky”, the Grandmaster said as he looked around the barn with an inquisitive gaze. Lucky is the last word Bucky would have ever chosen to describe himself but he simply stared as the man grabbed a handful of hay and brought it to his nose. His nose scrunched at the smell and he soon released it, brushing the remains off his hands.

 

“So we have material for the gold threads of your suit, _nice_. There is no horse here though so we’ll make do with the goats. There’s plenty of those.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about, mate ?”

 

“Your transportation”, the Grandmaster replied with a deadpan tone.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Of course you will !”

 

“No. I’m not. Never mind, I’m going back to the manor.” Bucky made a move to leave but the wooden twin doors closed on his face.

 

“Stop waving your little tricks in my face”, he charged on the Grandmaster with a furious gaze. “Is that funny to you ?”

 

Raising his hands, the Grandmaster made an apologetic face. Still, his lips soon quirked into a sardonic smile. Bucky was brimming with the desire to punch him.

 

“Come on, James ! I told you. _You can’t hide from me_. I know you long to have fun with your friends like old times. I know you want to turn back time but you don’t need to travel that far to have what you want.”

 

“This has nothing to do with you”, Bucky sneered.

 

“Your mother believes the contrary. But I’ll make you a deal. For once, you’ll leave this manor and attend the ball given for the princess.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “And put myself on the line for all those rich people so they can laugh at me ? Nonsense. What do I gain from this ?”

 

The other man's expression turned victorious and he quirked an eyebrow.

 

“ _An arm_.”

 

*****

 

Shuri glanced up at the massive, longcase clock which dominated any other furniture in the ballroom. The beautifully carved oak was topped by cherubs of gold which were depicted with bows and arrows. Her hand brushed the gilts of bronze as she found her own breath after the craze of another quadrille. She should have never approached Stark because the man was relentless.

 

The opera melodies were dissolving into the distance when she looked over her shoulder and way too soon, a valet found her and guided her back to her father. The King was speaking with a group of foreign dignitaries and kept glancing back and forth between his guest and the orchestra. When he caught Shuri’s gaze, she saw him smile in relief.

 

His arms slid around her shoulders protectively as Shuri curtsied for his guests, for what felt like the umpteenth time that night.

 

“Queen Frigga, Sir Heimdall, It’s a pleasure to have you with us.”

 

The foreign Queen bowed her neck to her and gave her a genuine smile while her bodyguard bent his body in half.

 

“Happy Birthday, your Highness”, he said, his gentle, golden eyes twinkling with happiness.

 

“ _Oh my_ ! How you’ve grown, Shuri. T’Chaka, It is a shame my husband and stupid sons prefer to play pirates instead of being here. Your daughter is such wonder !”

 

Her father knew for a fact Shuri hated to be spoken about when she was in close vicinity so they shared a knowing glance. They exploited the silence given by the interlude to exchange a few pleasantries.

 

“Do you have any suitor yet ?”, Queen Frigga asked to Shuri directly.

 

After another conniving gaze at her father, Shuri shook her head no.

 

“I’m not in the rush to find one, your Majesty.”

 

The Queen hummed. “What could possibly change your mind about this ?”

 

Shuri was about to give a gentle but firm reply explaining her priorities to Frigga but a wave of shocked gasps and whispers moved through the entire ballroom.

 

The princess whipped her head for the source of such commotion and found it came from the top of the marble staircase. She saw wide eyed women rush to the last steps and gather around the engraved, golden balustrades.

 

There was a masked individual at the top of the stairs.

 

Subconsciously, Shuri walked forward. How did he even enter the ballroom ? The grand entrance was already closed at this hour. Behind her, she felt a rush of movement as the King’s guards gathered close to their sovereign.

 

But Shuri was intrigued and as she drew near the stairs, nobles finally freed themselves from looking at the surprise guest and bowed their neck to her as their columns parted so she could halt still, a few feets away from the last marble steps.

 

Her gaze traveled over the man’s form as he finally descended the stairs. As he got closer and closer, she figured he was really handsome beneath the silver mask. Tall and broad- shouldered, he exhibited a certain hesitancy in his steps that was unusual, especially for someone who exhibited such sartorial fashion. Shuri drank in his everything, from his trim waist to the fine silk and brocades of his blue and gold suit. Even the silky smooth hair grazing his shoulders looked luxurious, and his lone sleeve was gold embroidered but didn’t include the frills she saw in other men’s costumes.

 

Her chest heaved beneath her plum corset when he walked towards her and halted. He took off his tricorne hat and bowed in reverence. And her breath caught into her throat when, under the mask, his sharp blue eyes lingered on her face, her fingers itching to brush his neatly trimmed beard as he dare to kneel for her. Shuri thought she heard a woman squeal in the distance. Shaking her inappropriate thoughts away, she curtsied in return. Two guards came to frame her, their bodies coiled and ready to snap at the intruder. But her mysterious guest didn’t exhibit any guilt nor weapons so she quickly dismissed them.

 

“ _You’re late_ ”, she admonished him with a playful tone she had no business using with a stranger. “But you can get up now.”

 

The man grinned slyly and bounced back on his feet. His hands were both gloved in white and Shuri released a stuttering breath when he extended them, his palms turned heavenwards.

 

_An invitation to dance._

 

Shuri glanced back and forth between his hands and his face, and with a sharp inhale, she stretched out her own hand and let herself be guided to the center of the grand ballroom.

 

“There is no music yet”, she whispered to him as she stared ahead.

 

He glanced back at her with a smile.

 

“Yet”, he repeated as he came to a stop.

  


She bristled under the touch of his fingers around her waist but nevertheless, she put an arm around his shoulder while another grabbed the tulle of her dress. He took a sharp breath himself at the contact and gently kneaded her hip to ground them both. Slowly, he started to move them across the floor with gentle sways. That’s when the orchestra finally caught up and the swell of a violin rose before a full string quartet delved into a song.

 

“ _Happy birthday, Princess"_

 

When Shuri looked up to catch his steel blue gaze, she noticed the faint gray specks in his beard, and for the first time that night, she gave a gleaming smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't finished this WIP but on re-read, this chapter works as a one-shot so have it again.


End file.
